January 9-15 2015

It has been wonderful to have my dad come over to visit me and create our own adventures in the south of France. France felt more fresh and new with his perspective: the colors, the architecture, history, and society. He noticed so many things about it I had stopped paying attention too. It was a gift to finally have the chance to share the experience with a family member. It made it all the more exciting, spontaneous, and adventurous.

Jan. 10

We headed out early on the long trip to Carcassonne, yet it was well worth it. The old, fortified city has been well restored and is beautiful and haunting lit up in the evening. As Dad said, imagine having this is in your backyard. The castle ramparts have a spooky aspect and unsurprisingly there's a haunted house for tourists too. Fortunately we were there during low tourist season, walking around the ramparts with barely anyone around. There's restaurants as well with names like the Black Cauldron, but we enjoyed our dinner at La Dame Carcas, named after the legend of the woman who threw a fat pig over the fortress to tell the enemy the city had enough resources if invaded, when it was really suffering from famine. Hence why there were plenty of pig references at this place. The roasted duck was particularly delicious.

Jan. 11

We visited the fortified city again this morning as the experience was different during the day with more people around. We enjoyed a lovely picnic inside the city and we circled the entire ramparts. Le Jardin du Calvaire was our last stop before we took the afternoon train to Arles. I finally learned the difference between pronouncing Arles and the other town Ales, very slight difference. The fortress city made a last great view in the evening train ride; it has such a classical French look.

We arrived in Arles later that evening, ending our day with a view of the Roman amphitheater all a lit. During WWII, the amphitheater was bombed and there has been large restoration. I think it would certainly make for a great romantic evening rendez-vous. Arles is so different from the northern parts of France I'm more familiar with. People sometimes can be friendlier, viewing the Meditteranean from the train, and being able to see the stars. The town has a great vibe for its uniqueness. It was also the place where Van Gogh created over 200 paintings at the height of his career; he was inspired by this town's magic too.

A mash up of pagan Christmas trees, a Christian church in the square, & a Roman obelisk

Jan. 12

We covered a lot of ground today in this old city, one of the oldest I've ever been in, a mash up of Roman architecture and French medieval add-ons over time. We walked along the Rhône River, one ignored by the town, pausing at marked spots where Van Gogh painted. Having visited some of the locations of his paintings, I've definitely cultivated a greater appreciation for his work.

First we visited the old, Roman baths of Constantine. Its humbling to stand amidst ruins where so many people walked over time. We also found the hidden garden of the city, a perfect spot with its colors for Van Gogh to paint. Arles has such narrow, winding maze of streets, perfect for scooters, but definitely not made for cars. It has a unique charm.

The Roman amphitheater was one of the coolest sights to visit, feeling on top of the world above. Imagine trying to fit a medieval city inside, or what kind of animals they brought in for the gladiators. Now it's used for traditional bull fights, cultural events. Not a bad space for some sun bathing as well.

The Roman theater that we also visited was built with great acoustics being able to hear my voice reverberating off its curved old wall. We also visited the underground, cryptotique, used for storage, food cooling, underground markets, and later a useful bomb shelter. This town has brought me a lot of inspiration as it did for Van Gogh. Imagine gazing at a starry night under the amphitheater.


Jan. 13
Fortunately we had more time to spend in Arles, visiting first thing les Alyscamps, once known as the greatest cemetery in Europe, or "The City of the Dead." I've seen one too many French cemeteries and nothing compares to this one lined with the ancient church St. Honorat and the path lined with old Roman sarcophagus. Our last location in Arles was enjoying a picnic on the roof of St. Trophime's cloister, until it started to rain.

We got lost in Arles at least once. It was bound to happen with its maze of alleyways and narrow streets. We said au revoir to the Roman amphitheater before heading to take our afternoon train to Albi, a town, unlike Arles, that embraces the river. Our hotel was right nearby Albi's massive, brick cathedral, oozing its Roman Catholic mystery and power for centuries. Its intimidating in its appearance just to remind people in the middle ages who was really in charge, overthrowing the Cathars, a Christian movement at the time. St. Cecilia Cathedral also has one of the few remaining choir chapels in France.

We did an audioguide tour together of the Cathedral, St. Cecilia, mine in French, his in English checking in with each other on what number we were each on. There were sometimes when neither of us understood what painting, or sculpture the guide was referring to. The visit was fascinating, but exhausting. We ended up spending two hours in the cathedral that morning, examining the stories in its art, along with its Italian styled frescoes and its huge Judgement Day wall with a missing Jesus that was taken out to make room for another door to a new chapel beyond the altar. I think I saw one too many relics and the French tour guide asked if we wanted an audio guide in Italian at first. So the guessing game continues: are we Italian, Canadian? Only an older British lady could of course, immediately pick up on our American accents.

Next was walking the palace gardens of the local, filthy rich bishop of Albi, a strong member at the time of the town's theocracy. There were of course more towers of tall bricks to stand under; Albi is indeed a brick town. The view of the river looks right out of a postcard and the weather has been so pleasant. We crossed the Pont Vieux, one of the oldest bridges still in use in France dating back to 1020. It brought to mind the age of the Ponte Vecchio in Florence.

Afterward as our last stop, we visited the Henri Toulouse-Lautrec museum, the local town artist. I also loved seeing other artist's depictions of Venice, Saint Malo, Rouen. Art can be even much more appreciated and given context to when having visited the locations in the paintings.

On our way back, we visited a French knife shop and learned about French cutlery and where the knives are made. All the while I translated as best I could for Dad, some exchanges not needing translation, but definitely needed when explaining the different types of my dad's favorite knife type. I understood what the lady was explaining to me in French. Translating it was another challenge, so it required some creative improvising. It's been really fun, exhausting, and rewarding acting as my dad's personal translator, including when we watched the Hobbit film together in French dub. (No English version was available at the time we wanted).

I've seen sides of the French I've never seen before with my dad. They are friendlier, teasing us, throwing in their English sometimes, like trying to tell a woman that moulin meant windmill when she was describing a restaurant recommendation for us. Sometimes my French messed with my English and I'd blank out on big words, vice versa with my French. Soon I'll be back speaking French full time. Translating has been really fun, shortening my English phrased questions to my dad, like "coffee, no coffee?" Not to mention, all our meals were fabulous.

Jan. 14

Our last day in Nantes, Dad met French assistant, Tiphaine, but she was shy to speak in English, so I enjoyed catching up with her in French about the new group of IES students. She says they're more motivated, more prepared to speak in French on a regular basis. Looking forward to meeting the new group soon.

I showed as much of Nantes as I could to my dad, stopping at the huge cemetery, Notre Dame by Chantier Naval, and catching the last glimpses of the sunset by the river toward the Island of Machines. His presence has brought me new perspective and appreciation for life and for the country I am living in. To many more future adventures together!